To Deceive Is To Love (Romantic suspense) (23 page)

Pascal looked over at Chantelle, “
Au revoir,
beautiful, brave lady. Maybe when this is over, you can come back and visit me. We could get to know each other a little better.”

“I knew it, you randy French are all the same.” David’s tone was lighthearted as Pascal joked back that if he didn’t make a pass, his reputation would be at risk. Exchanges were made in a more serious nature and then it was time for them to leave.

The plane gathered speed, finally leaving the unlit stretch of runway for the dark, starlit sky above, just the luminous control panel providing light. Changing star formations were the only way she could tell they were actually moving; there was certainly nothing to look down at for quite some time, until clusters of lights appeared as they flew over villages and towns.

It was going to be a long flight, the silence between them causing an uneasy atmosphere. Chantelle wanted to question him more about what he was going to do once back in England, only she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to hear the answer. In truth, she already knew. He had one goal, one objective: Hendersson. As for their future, it hadn’t even been discussed.

“The Falcon, why are you called that?” she heard herself ask.

“It’s a nickname Pascal gave me. I don’t know why.”

“Maybe you remind him of one. A bird of prey, I mean.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It wasn’t meant as one.”

“Look, Chantelle, if it’s about what you heard me say to Pascal, I wasn’t exactly being honest with him. About you and me, I mean.”

“No, well, I’m not sure about anything anymore.”

David reached over and squeezed her hand. The words she wanted to hear remained unspoken.

“Damn, look at that weather. Might have guessed as soon as we reached the English Channel, the British climate would come to greet us. I was hoping we could avoid it, but it looks like we’ll be lucky to skim the edge.”

David’s words brought her fully alert. Ahead was a thick gathering of nimbus clouds, a sign they were about to enter heavy rain. There was no avoiding it. The plane was already beginning to rock from the turbulence. Light spray against the windows was replaced by lashing rain, drowning out the noise of the engine and deteriorating the visibility. Losing height rather than risk trying to get above it was like being under a waterfall. The rain created illusions, making the horizon appear to be below the real horizon. The plane was so low now that it was as if they were skimming the sea’s surface.

Chantelle glanced down and wished she hadn’t. The dark, oppressive sea looked as if it was about to claim them. Giant waves leaped out, churning crescents of surf that swirled and tossed as they sought a victim to take to their depths.

Her eyes tore away and squeezed tightly shut, her body trembling. They weren’t entering storm clouds and David knew what he was doing, so why did she feel so on edge as if she was a complete novice to flying?

Taunting images of being in the biplane flooded her thoughts, of the storm passing overhead as she crawled along that field, of the engine dying on her and the feeling of hopelessness. She had tried to forget, push it away. Even when they were in the Islander, she’d stopped the images from resurfacing by seeking comfort from being within the cargo hold. When David forced her departure, other fears surfaced. Suddenly, her eyes shot open and a small cry sounded.

“Chantelle, what‘s wrong?” David took one hand off the control column and placed it over her hands, stopping her from wringing them together.

His attention had to remain on the instruments, but Chantelle caught his sidelong glance, causing her to bite into her lower lip.

“The weather was similar to this when you crashed, wasn’t it? Except there was also a storm and then the next time you were up in a plane, I forced you to parachute out. No wonder you look a little pale.” He gave a small smile.

She looked at him, unable to hide her fear.

Removing his hand, he turned his attention back to the instruments. The plane became steady as visibility improved, the belt of rain decreasing as they reached the tail end.

“Take over the controls, Chantelle.”

Her eyes widened in alarm. “I can’t, David. Please, not now.”

“You will be fine. Take deep breaths and concentrate on one thing only and that is flying this plane.” There was no compromise in his tone.

“Stop it! Can’t you see I must be sick? Even my hands are shaking.” She held them up to demonstrate the point. Rivets of perspiration ran down her back, making the anxiety turn to fear.

This was what she loved, the one pleasure she clung to and it was turning into another nightmare. The more she thought about taking over the controls, the worse it became. Her eyes were now pleading with him, the dryness in her throat preventing her voice from sounding, her heart pounding against her chest.

Putting the controls onto autopilot, he took her face within his hands. “Chantelle, look at me. Why are you doing this to yourself? The crash wasn’t your fault. You proved how good a pilot you are by bringing the plane down. If anything, you should feel more confident, having faced the worst situation and survived, not go to pieces simply because we hit a rain cloud.”

She started to sob. “Haven’t you put me through enough? I don’t want to fly anymore. Engines just don’t quit.” She broke down, tearing her face away from his hands and replacing them with her own.

“They do if the cam ring breaks and stops the valve action. It cuts out the engine immediately. A freak, one in a million happening, but it happens and the pilot can’t do a damn thing about it.” He had found some paper towels and handed her several. “It’s the first time you’ve let the tears flow. I’m hoping it’s a good sign.”

Feeling weak and pathetic, especially since she wanted to keep on crying, Chantelle snatched the paper towels from him and rubbed the tears away.

“Didn’t Danny tell you? Your mechanic Steve Tyler discovered that was exactly what happened?”

She slowly shook her head. “Danny and I haven’t exactly been on speaking terms since you punched him.”

“Well, he should have let you know. Anyway, it’s all been taken care of.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I sent a check to cover the damage.”

“You had no right. I would have found the money somehow.” Strangely, her earlier fears leading to this confrontation had been put on hold. Now resentment was her governing emotion. “You shouldn’t have interfered.”

“Danny’s lucky to get a penny, since he should have had insurance and he can also count himself lucky he wasn’t flying the plane. He might not have been so fortunate.”

“It makes no difference, so don’t expect gratitude. I can handle my own affairs.”

“I never doubted it. How about putting some of that assertive energy into flying this plane before we hit the white cliffs of Dover?” David gave her a smug smile.

Chantelle returned a look of defiance. Her hands firmly took hold of the control column while David switched off the autopilot. He knew his words would goad her, which made her feel all the angrier that he could read her so well. Once the plane was in her full control, her fears dispersed and she enjoyed the moment. It was a breathtaking sight as they flew inland just as dawn began to break on the horizon, an orange red glow that stretched across the earth’s surface.

Red sky in the morning, Shepherd’s warning
, Chantelle remembered her father quoting. Suddenly, that familiar saying took on a very different meaning. Before she could stop herself, she was pleading with him. “Please, David, let me turn the plane around. We could land somewhere safe back in France. Nobody would expect it. We could disappear.”

“Slow down a minute. First it’s the plane, now it’s England that’s put the fear of God into you. Contrary to what you think, I don’t plan to die at the ripe old age of thirty-four. Neither do I want to live like a fugitive, so quit worrying and watch those damn instruments.”

“Well, if you could stop shouting at me and tell me where exactly we are heading instead of expecting me to fly this blasted plane blind, I might not sound so hysterical.”

Chantelle couldn’t believe it when David actually said sorry and went on to explain why it was so important Chantelle concentrated on keeping the plane at the altitude and flight direction he had instructed. It avoided any restricted or controlled airspace and the last thing they wanted was some curious air traffic controller asking them to identify themselves. The place they were heading was a piece of uncultivated farmland hidden deep in the Kent Countryside and used for emergencies such as this. He rented it in a fictitious name and told her he’d kept it from Hendersson and was thankful he had.

“The other airstrip where I housed the Islander and where the weapons had been delivered to, I have no doubt will be under watchful eyes in case I was alive and foolish enough to land there.”

“Thank you.” Chantelle smiled. “From now on, I want to know everything, not kept in the dark and expected to follow orders, not when my life is at stake, too.”

He gave a salute. “Understood, Miss Duvall.”

It was a very bumpy landing, the ground an uneven strip of coarse grass and mud patches.

“You’re out of practice,” David remarked as they both launched forward and were pulled back by their seatbelts when the plane finally came to a standstill.

Ignoring his gibe, she stared through the Perspex at the isolation surrounding them. “A nice place you’ve picked for a landing. Now, with your injured leg, how do you expect to reach civilization? Unless you plan for us to become a couple of hermits?”

“A nice idea, but no. Look over there, at the edge of the field.”

Following his pointed finger, all she could see was a tall shield of conifers forming a kind of semi-circle.

“In between that lot is a corrugated shed large enough to store a Mini Cooper. She’s a bit of a collector’s item now and looks rough, but the engine is sound and the battery is charged up every month.”

“Oh! How wonderfully convenient. What a resourceful man you are, David. You’re prepared for practically everything, a regular James Bond.”

“And you have a sarcastic tongue, which you will soon find silenced if you carry on. As you’ve already pointed out, I can’t be expected to trek across the field with my leg, so do me the courtesy of fetching our transport. The keys will be in the ignition.”

“Why, of course. Now I know why you’ve dragged me along. Anything else my services are needed for, don’t hesitate to ask. I mean…”

Her words were silenced by his hands clasping her face and drawing her lips to his, hard and demanding and full of unfinished passion. Drawing reluctantly away, David said in a sheepish voice, “That’s my answer and the strongest reason for having you by my side. Mind you, it does help that you can nurse, fly a plane and drive, but I’m not keen on the ladies’ self-defense lessons.

“Why you…I’ve got a good mind to jump in that car and leave you behind.”

Opening the pilot’s door, Chantelle dropped to the ground and marched off across the field, a big smile spreading over her face. When he wasn’t angry, in pain or being just damn arrogant, the harshness faded from his features, turning his blue eyes warm and mischievous and his smile devastating. It was hard not to want to hold onto that image and disregard everything else. The old cliché blinded by love had become true in her case.

The Mini Cooper was as David had said. The keys were in the ignition and the engine started up on the second turn. Minis were not designed for comfort, especially carrying a nearly six foot, broadly framed passenger whose head kept hitting the roof as they traveled across two fields.

“Ouch! You fly better than you drive. Slow down and look out for those sheep,” David cried out.

Throwing him a peeved looked, Chantelle swerved, missing the sheep and hitting another clump of grass. She glanced across at David and noticed he had slid down farther in the seat to avoid another bump to his head.

Finally, they reached a dirt track that got them onto a B road for several miles before joining a main highway. David directed her through several villages, none familiar to Chantelle. Eventually, they left a major town and arrived on the outskirts of a large private housing complex, mock Tudor executive style houses built around a manmade lake, each with enough land to provide privacy.

“Am I allowed to ask who lives here or is that a top government secret?” Chantelle drove the Mini onto the graveled driveway and switched the engine off.

“Tony, who owns the airfield and runs the flight school. He was with me when I first met you, remember, when you tried to decapitate me.” He threw her a wink.

“I remember all too well. It’s a shame you ducked. My life would have been far less complicated.”

“Then you have a lot in common with Tony. He’s the only other person I trust with my life, seeing both of you have saved it.” He smiled warmly. “Tony was my instructor in the force. When he left the RAF to set up the flight school, I stayed in touch. During my darkest days, he helped me through. That’s why we are turning up on his doorstep at six thirty on a Sunday morning.”

“What do you mean by your darkest days?”

David lowered his eyes and looked uncomfortable with the question. “Let’s just say I went through a bad spell. I was thrown out of a job I loved, my father died, my girlfriend dumped me and my dog died.”

“Your dog?” Chantelle looked at him with skepticism.

He shrugged his shoulders. “Well, that happened a few years before, but when you’re down, it all comes back to haunt you.” He smiled. “My excuse, anyway. In truth, I drank, smoked too much, got into trouble and was generally on a downhill spiral of self-destruction. Tony helped me get back on track.”